


Unwinding

by Letterblade



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bath Sex, M/M, Sex Toys, Tops Can Relax Too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 05:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15599790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letterblade/pseuds/Letterblade
Summary: Shiro is starting to think this will be one of those nights when he just can’t relax. Fortunately Lance is a pretty resourceful guy.





	Unwinding

**Author's Note:**

> Written for soku-ter during a celebratory flash exchange on the VLD Creators discord server. I hope you enjoy! <3

Shiro is starting to think this will be one of those nights when he just can’t relax.

He’s waist deep in a perfectly hot bath. Not so hot that it’s making him dizzy, warm enough to sink to his bones. The heat, along with some scented lavendery something, is doing wonders for his sore muscles. And it’s probably very moisturizing.

“You’re spoiling me,” he murmurs, and only half-realizes how hard his left hand is gripping the side of the tub.

Lance’s hands pause on his shoulders, thumbs resting to either side of his spine. He hasn’t exactly been doing deep work—that would hardly be relaxing, with all the shit Shiro’s got locked up in his shoulders, and he’d need his elbows and his entire body weight to get in there anyway—but even just the soothing rub after his full-body soak has eased away some of the pain. It’s good, Shiro tells himself. It’s good.

Lance bumps his forehead against the back of Shiro’s head, breath hot on his scalp. “Yeah, well, you’re not unwinding, big guy.”

Shiro forces his hand to unclench from the edge of the bath, stretches and reaches behind him to ruffle damp fingers through Lance’s hair. “I…I don’t know…”

“Sshh. It’s okay.”

Something watery and grateful unclenches in Shiro’s belly. God, Lance knows him too well by now. Some nights he can let it go all the way, let Lance knead him into putty and open him up and play with him for what feels like hours, until there are stars behind his eyes and nothing but pleasure left in his head. Other nights…other nights he’s wound too tight.

Lance kisses the back of his head where his hair is short. “Do you wanna just turn in? Or do you…want me?”

There’s that tiny little hitch in his breath, the way he presses his soft wiry body against Shiro’s back, which tells Shiro what answer he’s hoping for. And he’s not _that_ wrenched up in his head tonight. Everything’s warm and wet and soft and the heat of Lance’s breath against his nape is going straight down to the root of his spine.

Shiro feels a smile tugging at his mouth and takes a handful of Lance’s hair. “Oh, get over here.”

Lance laughs, then lets Shiro pretty much drag him around and into his lap with a splash and a whoop. Then there’s one little moment, once he’s got Lance straddling his thighs with his hand dragging his head back by his hair, baring the long column of his throat, where Lance is just moaning, eyes half-lidded, sheer delicious surrender clear on his face.

It’s—amazingly easy to vicariously share Lance’s joyful abandon, after all.

Shiro leans in to chew softly on Lance’s throat, and he moans and squirms, wrapping all his limbs around Shiro and wriggling with delight. Then Shiro pulls back. “Hey, move your arm for a bit?”

Lance blinks, then cottons on and gets his arm out of the way of the sleek and flexible metal plate that’s Shiro’s right shoulder now. Shiro closes his eyes for a moment, focuses on that quiet mental connection, and calls his prosthetic back from across the room, energy tether glowing in the soft light of the bath.

“That,” Lance says, licking his lips, “will _never_ not be cool.”

His motor control and sensation spins up in less than a second, and he can feel the warmth of the room all down the sensor-laced metal, and the damp softness of Lance’s skin as he trails his fingertips down his face. “You want to perv on my prosthetic,” he says with a lopsided smile, “go perv on Pidge. She ‘maked it,’ as she’s very proud of pointing out.”

“Yeah, but you…” Lance turns his head, wraps his lips around the metal thumb, and Shiro’s hand stutters to a halt, wet and heat and suction all _vividly_ mapped to his nerves through the new interface. “Make it really hard not to,” Lance finishes after running his tongue around it, eyes bright with mischief. “Oh, hey, I’ve got a present for you.”

Shiro blinks, blinks harder when Lance unwraps from him a little to reach into the forest of jars and bath sundries that lives on the side of his set-in-the-floor tub. “What is it?” he asks, a little belatedly, because with that look on his face, he’d have been expecting Lance to go down on him right then. Which might have actually been a little much right now.

“Here.” Lance presses something into his hand. A flat, oblong thing, palm-sized, with four buttons. Shiro turns it over and back once, blinks at him. Lance twines around him again and leans close to whisper in his ear. “If you want to fuck me—”

Shiro’s breath catches in his chest.

“Hit the upper right button maybe…three or four times? In the next whenever until you’re ready. Otherwise do what you like.”

Shiro feels his forehead knit, suspicious, and slides his flesh hand down Lance’s spine, between his toned thighs, and nudges the base of something buried in his ass. Lance gives tiny, breathy moan in his ear. “Shit, Lance,” Shiro breathes, impressed. “How long have you…”

He doesn’t actually need to ask. Lance has been with him pretty much nonstop since he’d first coaxed Shiro down to his room for a bath. Not enough time to get something into himself. He hadn’t even been moving strangely—just as liquidly graceful as always. “How long do you think?” Lance murmurs in his ear.

“Oh, fuck.” Shiro explores the base with his fingers, trails them down to tease behind Lance’s balls, and Lance shivers where he’s wrapped around him, pliant and eager. Upper right hand button? Shiro finds it, pushes it.

There’s no sound, no vibration that he can feel, but Lance gives a groan and shudder against him regardless. Something _shifts_ under his fingers, subtly.

“Is it—getting bigger?”

“Y-yeah…nnn. I put—” Shiro presses against the base of the thing, hard, and Lance squirms, delicious. He’s utterly heedless with his reactions, as always. Unguarded, radiating bliss, enough to ease the tension locked up in even Shiro’s chest. “Put plenty of lube up there too,” he finishes. “Open me up like this and you could just pull it out and drop me right onto your cock.”

Shiro stops breathing for a moment. Heat pooling in his dick. In his lap, he thinks. Just like this, except far enough out of the water so that the lube doesn’t wash away, bent in half with his toes twisting in midair and wailing with pleasure. _God_ , that’s good. That’s perfect. He turns his head to kiss him, urgent, demanding, dragging at his lips with his teeth, and Lance opens for that too, eager, moaning into his mouth.

He hits the upper right button again and drinks down the groan punched out of Lance as the plug opens inside him.

“Ohhh fuck,” Lance moans into the kiss. “Yes…yes…whatever you want from me, whatever I can give you, take it, it’s yours…”

“Whatever I want?” Shiro murmurs, low and teasing. “Even if I don’t fuck you?” Hell, he could never follow through on _that_ threat. Not now. “Even if I just tease you with this toy all night?” He tries the left button—logically it should make it smaller again. He’s guessing by the shift under his fingers and the whine in Lance’s throat that it does.

“Nnnn,” Lance whines. “Anything yo—uuhhh.” His voice cracks as Shiro presses the right button again.

“So what do the other buttons do?” Shiro wraps his prosthetic around Lance’s shoulders, remote tucked against his palm, and between that and the hand on his ass, lifts him bodily a few inches. Just to show he can. Just to have Lance’s whole self in his arms, wrapped around him.

“Oh god yes…” Lance tries to catch his breath, readjusts his grip on Shiro’s shoulders. “Try ‘em and find out.”

“Well, if you insist.” Bottom right seems the obvious choice. The hum is almost subliminal, but with the way Lance shudders in his arms, lets out a moan that doesn’t quite stop—yeah, it vibrates too. Shiro smiles, doesn’t turn it back off. “What were you going to do if I did melt down all the way tonight?” he asks pleasantly, even as he steadies his grip on Lance and starts gathering himself to stand. Lance’s feet aren’t going to touch the ground again tonight, far as Shiro’s concerned. Lance isn’t going to do anything but moaning and writhing in ecstasy. It’s what they both need.

“NnmmfuhIdunno.” Lance shifts himself, making it easier to balance his weight even as he trembles with the vibrations. “Fuck you with a plug in me? That sounds nice.” His voice is a little frayed

“Think you could keep it up when I’m doing this?” Shiro asks, low and teasing, and pumps up the size.

“ _Fuh_ —oh god, oh fuck, I’m doomed—”

“Mm, yes, I’d say so,” Shiro purrs.

“—what a way to go. Okay we’ll just have to find out someday, though you teasing me might be uh. Might be counterproductive to me fucking your brains out, I give you an inch you take a mile…”

“Well. You like it that way.” Shiro plants his feet, lifts, and Lance gives a giddy moan as he dangles off Shiro with the plug whirring away inside him. The nonskid coating in this bath is _very_ handy.

“Holy fuck yes please I do,” Lance babbles, grinning with abandon, and kisses him eagerly. “Yours—all yours—”

Shiro steps up to sit on the edge of the bath, legs still in the divine warmth, Lance a wriggling bundle in his lap. Drags metal nails lightly down his back just to hear him moan, open-throated, going straight to his own cock as the last bands of tension ease off his chest. They’re warm and clean and skin against skin, and Shiro doesn’t have to worry about anything but making him moan. “You’re too good to me,” Shiro murmurs in his ear.

Lance turns to nuzzle his cheek, skin hedonistically soft, and kisses him, sweet and almost chaste even as he writhes against him, hard cock trapped between their bellies. “You deserve it,” he breathes. “Always.”


End file.
